Captain Sparrow's Galley Chef
by webaholic
Summary: Jack Sparrow finds more than he bargained for when dragged off by an unlikely companion whilst on shore leave. Twists and turns and laughs by the barrelful. One-shot.


Author's Note: One afternoon I took a nap and awoke laughing from a dream. This is the result; I hope you have a pleasant laugh too.

The Captain had been accosted by stouter and stronger folk but never by a more vehemently cheerful personage than the rotund old dame who had run up to him in the market.

"Captain Sparrow! Captain Jack Sparrow! As I live and breathe—'tis _so_ good to see you!" She grabbed his hands in both of hers, bestowed a fervent and moist kiss on them, then released them and patted his chest with a force unaccustomed in the elderly. "I've waited seems like forever -- come along." Her chubby, chapped red hand clapped around his wrist like a manacle; her momentum carried them through the crowd as she dodged the denizens with the deftness of a dancer.

"Do I know you?" Jack asked, puffing to keep up. "You seem to be quite acquainted with me."

"Ah, your legend is known by all, Cap'n, of course."

In her seaside shack, the woman plopped him on a bench and ladled a manly portion of stew into a wooden bowl large enough for a hen to nest in. The aroma of onions and rosemary and a hint of cabbage tugged at Sparrow's nose. He took the spoon thrust under said nose and tasted the offering.

The oldster cut thumb-thick slices of bread -- two kinds, rye and honey -- and slathered a heavy butter on them.

Jack's kohl-circled eyes finally rose from the feast at hand to flutter around the dark room like an owl on patrol.

"Why all the chests, Good Lady?"

"For the treasure."

If there's one thing a pirate loves more than good food, it's ... rum. And women. But treasure comes very high on the list of piratish interests.

''How does a, er, widow woman such as yourself sleep at ease with caskets full of treasure? Especially with pirates about. Not that I would think to rob you, naturally. I tend toward utilising the wealth of the aristocracy and the overbearing military, not humble seacoast dwellers such as yourself."

"Oh, I've no treasure yet," she said, chuckling, "that's why it was so important for me to find you."

Jack patted his pockets in a great show of consternation. "My dear woman, I truly regret that I have left any and all jewels, coins, and other such valuables on an island far in the sea ... and cannot at the moment remember which one. Although a drop of fine liquor might help the memory surface."

She shuffled to a trunk, dug around inside and procured a grimy bottle.

"Pirates don't use no cups, do they?"

"None is required if the beverage is of sufficient quality and strength." He nodded his head graciously to her, realized his hat was still on and removed it, placing it beside the wooden bowl. Several long pulls later, he sighed.

"I fear even this wonderful draught has not had the curative effect. But it is superb nonetheless," he added, gripping the neck tightly. As the old woman made no attempt to snatch the bottle back, he continued with his libations.

"That's no problem at all, love. I'll get my fair share when I hit the high seas with your crew."

The pirate choked on the rum, wiped his mouth with a cuff of soiled lace, and cocked his head at her. "I'm afraid this excellent repast and fine brew must have dulled my senses. What did you just say?"

She drew another large portion of stew from the pot and watched as he dug in. "I said, I wanted to join your crew. As cook. Everyone needs to eat, even pirates. Especially so, for your provisions I would think were somewhat spotty. Not always knowing where or when you will be able to locate victuals."

Captain Sparrow nodded. The portly cook's bosom rose with pride. "You can taste for yourself, I make a fine mess with ingredients readily at hand." His spoon scraped the bowl with an eager rhythm as she spoke. "F'rinstance, what you're enjoying so much there is Rat Stew."

The dinner spewed from his lips. He clutched the bottle of rum, frantically rinsing his mouth.

"Certainly this fine beverage has affected my hearing. What manner of stew was this?"

"Always plenty of rats aboard ship, not always as meaty as the one my cat Esmerelda catches, but still ... and you should see what I can do with cocoanuts!"

Jack placed his hat on his sweating head, tried to rise with not too unseemly haste, bowed to the oldster, and sidled to the door.

"Thank you ever so much for your kindness and your offer of service, but alas I am without a ship at the moment. My crew awaits me on a distant isle, and I must find passage aboard a stranger's vessel. But if ever I need a Galley Chef, I shall surely remember you, my good woman."

With he quickness of a cat, the woman nimbly interposed herself between the pirate and the doorway. "You don't even know my name. How can you find me?"

"A pirate, dear lady, has ways of finding whatever he needs. Not always at the opportune moment, but eventually. And if I am ever able to do a good turn for you as you have for me today, feeding an outcast and dangerous soul, you can tell the owner of the Reaper's Scythe that you need to get a message to me. On that distant isle. Whose location I fail to remember." Again he bowed, this time with a flourish which saw his hand reaching for the doorknob as he pivoted to make his escape. "Good day to you."

Moving away from the exit, she patted his arm with fondness, and replied. "Good day to you, my long-lost son." On tiptoes, she bestowed a petal-soft kiss to the cheek before her hand behind his back shoved him into the squalid street.


End file.
